


On Purpose

by aspecialsomeone



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff, LiveJournal Prompt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspecialsomeone/pseuds/aspecialsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Eggsy gets dressed in his suit, he purposefully skips a button or struggles with his tie so that Harry is forced to step into his personal space and fix it for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Purpose

“Bollocks, Eggsy.”

Harry says this for the third time today as he exasperatingly pulls at the striped tie’s messy windsor knot that loosely hung from Eggsy’s neck. And there it is, it hits Eggsy like a speeding freight train: the scent of smokey and vetiver cologne, laced delicately with hints of gunpowder and metal—it’s Harry’s scent, and it fills Eggsy’s chest and mind with what could only be described as euphoria.

Harry is the only drug Eggsy feels the need to indulge in anymore. He needs a dosage at least twice a day, one to calm the nerves and other for heightening the senses. The rest of the close interactions are for petty amusement, or when he is under unbearable stress—if he does it too much or consecutively within the hour, Harry may either catch on, or dismiss the purposeful mishap entirely. 

He remembers the need traces all the way back to when Harry first tailors him for his first Kingsman suit, watching as careful hands handled the measuring tape which followed the shape of his waist, feeling how Harry’s breath feels on the back of his neck, and liking how Harry’s hand guides Eggsy by the small of his back to turn his body wherever Harry needs it to be.

He keeps track of a mental time sheet, and does it again at a fancy luncheon within the streets of London a few hours later: Eggsy’s lips has traces of purplish-red tints from the fancy cabernet Harry selects, and Harry himself reaches over the table in a huff, dabbing his protégé’s mouth with a embroidered napkin. Eggsy studies his mentor’s movements, how they are always systematic, yet fluid, always completing the task at hand with as little, yet efficient movements as possible, whether in combat or for mundane tasks—and all of it is somehow beautiful to Eggsy.

They receive a call for action by Merlin right before twilight, for an infiltration mission in the outskirts of Milan. As the night envelops the atmosphere with splashes of violent and brilliant vermillion, Eggsy takes the opportunity with Harry glancing at the sky to make sure to leave his buttons mismatched on his suit. Naturally, Harry notices within milliseconds and Eggsy takes the normal, curt scolding and dry insults with his usual chummy air of sorts, blabbering about how he doesn’t remember how his suit was in disarray.

Eggsy watches with silent amusement as slightly wrinkled fingers weave themselves in between the slits of the button openings, finely sculpted locks slightly disturbed by strands of hair falling from their place as he tilts his head down to fix the acclaimed ‘mess’ Eggsy wears. When the correction concludes itself, Harry readjusts his glasses and somewhat glares at Eggsy—and the young man just breathes in his mentor’s existence.

And even as they gloriously fight off the mercenaries into the night, Eggsy finds a way to stand back-to-back with Harry—for “tactical purposes” he claims—firing mercilessly into the bodies of his enemies with an automatic rifle, feeling Harry’s back muscles flex and constrict against Eggsy’s. 

As the mission ends with the antagonist slain, the Kingsman’s private jet whisks them back to their hometown. In light of it all, Harry compliments Eggsy’s hard work and improving skills with a word or two and attempts to find the daily newspaper…

The newspaper already in Eggsy’s hands and damn it, Harry knows Eggsy never really cares about current events, letting alone having the energy or drive to flip through a stack of papers with finely printed words. 

Harry clears his throat with hand outstretched, expectant. Eggsy’s lips grow into a satisfied smirk and hands the paper over to the older man, brushing hands with the elder Kingsman.

The newspaper neatly unfolds and masks Harry’s face as he reads, while he audibly grumbles a sarcastic thanks. 

They sit side by side in the airplane in content silence, and part ways with a “good night” when they disembark from the Kingsman’s tailor shop to their respective abodes.

Eggsy does this awkward, one-sided dance nearly everyday, because for some inexplicable reason, his mind continues to tell his body he _needs_ Harry. 

And everyday Harry, albeit accompanied with some characteristic snarky commentary, continues to oblige.


End file.
